Curtains, paintings and gunpowder plots...

Another of those days when I struggle to find something to say. I was thinking of telling you why I hate people who call curtains drapes. But equally I’d struggle to write another sentence about the subject. I do, however, hate curtains being called drapes almost as much as I hate a sofa being called a couch. 

I could, I suppose, write about those paintings found in Germany. Fifteen hundred or so works by artists including Picasso, Renoir, Matisse and Chagall hidden behind cans of rotting food in a dingy German flat. Until their discovery the paintings were said to have been lost to the flames when Allied aircraft bombed Dresden in 1945. The owner of the flat has no real identity – no social security number, no genuine passport, has never paid tax. His father was a member of the Nazi party and spirited the paintings away before they were burnt as degenerate art. I wonder just what they are worth? A single Picasso can be worth up to £60million. A Matisse £30million. In total they could be worth billions.

If I were a screenwriter I’d be writing the script for the film now – the paintings that is not the curtains. A film about curtains would probably be quite dull, unless of course it was a Torn or Red Curtain.

There’s always Gunpowder and Plot, with tonight being bonfire night. But to be honest I’ve done that to death and I don’t find fireworks as exciting as I once did. I’m surprised that there’s never been a film about Guy Fawkes, well apart from the 1923 silent historical film directed by Maurice Elvey. There has to be a great blockbuster movie in that story surely? It has everything – religious terrorism, executions, bombs, political intrigue – just throw in a little love interest and a smattering of sex and it’s a winner.

That’s two potential movies in the space of a single blog post, not bad going. Maybe I should try writing screenplays. I can see it now ‘Curse of the Mutant Couches’ or maybe a comedy ‘Pull Yourself Together!” Ooooh matron!